His Taste Box Set: The Pine Grove Complete Collection

by Hamel, B. B.

  “It’s a small town, little Celine.”

  “I know that. And stop calling me little.”

  “Cops here don’t follow normal big city rules. It’s a little world down here.”

  “How do you know all this?” I ask him.

  He gives me a look. “Let’s just say I might’ve bribed a cop or two back in the day.”

  “You—what?” Her eyes go wide a little.

  I laugh and put my arm around her shoulders. “Come on, little Celine. Let’s have some fun.” I steer her toward the warehouse and the music.

  “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but she comes along.

  The doorman asks for a twenty cover charge and I slip him two. He nods his thanks and we go inside together. The club is basically just one large room with a big bar in the middle. Along the walls are old boxes and equipment that was probably here back when they first bought the place but didn’t feel like removing.

  The bulk of the space is taken up by the dance floor. There’s a DJ booth off to one side banked by massive speakers. More speakers are hung from the ceiling and positioned all around the mass of people writhing and dancing against each other.

  I had no clue Pine Grove had so many young people. I’m honestly surprised as we sidle up to the bar. There must be at least a couple hundred people in here, most of them dancing, most of them young. I would’ve figured most young people would get the hell out of Pine Grove.

  Celine being the exception. She’s the rare young person that actively wants to move here, which puzzles me. But I know from experience that you don’t ask someone why they came to Pine Grove.

  Everyone has a little secret here, including me. You can get along just fine if you let their secrets stay secrets.

  Celine asks for a whiskey and Coke, and I order another whiskey on the rocks. We sip our drinks and gravitate toward a standing table off to one side. The music is still loud, but it’s not deafening at least.

  “This place isn’t awful,” she says to me, leaning closer to talk over the music.

  “What?” I ask, even though I heard her.

  That makes her comes nearer, her lips practically against my ear. “I said, this place isn’t bad.”

  “Oh, I know. More people than I expected, too.”

  “Who are your friends?”

  “I have no clue,” I tell her, grinning. “We met at Hammy’s one night. They kept buying me drinks. I think they’re cousins.”

  She laughs a little. “Mysterious club-owning cousins from California.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Lots of weird stuff like that in this town, huh?”

  I grin at her. “You noticed that pretty fast.”

  She shrugs. “You notice a lot when you tend bar in the only place in town. Well, the only other place.”

  I laugh a little and sip my drink. She’s sweet and clearly smart. I didn’t expect her to notice how strange Pine Grove is this quickly. Most people take a little while to let it all settle around them before they start to catch all the quirks.

  But clearly Celine notices things. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

  “Come on,” I say, putting my drink down. I take her hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Dance,” I say.

  She drags her feet and finishes her drink but nods and follows eventually. I drag her out onto the dance floor, right into the middle of the pack of bodies, before turning to her and getting real close.

  I’m not a shy man. I don’t hold back. Celine is hesitant at first when I take her hips and start to dance up close to her. There are plenty of writhing, grinding couples all around us, but she’s skittish.

  I can feel it in her body as we move, but she starts to loosen up, starts to move to the music. I can feel it in my blood, her body so close, her lips practically inches from mine.

  I haven’t tasted lips like that in a long time. I’ve stayed away from women, kept to myself mostly. The opportunity has presented itself in these last six months, but I’ve always turned it down.

  Tonight, I don’t know why it’s so different. It’s something to do with Celine. I don’t know why I went to Hammy’s so late. I was bored, restless. I wanted a drink, some fresh air, some company, even if it was only for a little bit.

  I didn’t expect to find Celine. I didn’t expect to end up here.

  But if I learned anything, it’s that life takes you in fucked-up directions all the time, and you’d better grab on and ride it hard. Otherwise, it’ll ride you.

  So, I sway with Celine, I dance with her, I lose myself and let her get lost in me. It feels good, being so close to a woman like this. It feels good to breathe in the scent of her hair, feel her hands on my body, feels her hips moving with mine. I haven’t danced in a while, and I almost forgot how much like fucking the whole thing is.

  She looks up at me and tilts her chin to one side. It’s almost like she’s asking a question.

  I don’t say anything. I take her chin, almost her throat, and I kiss her.

  She kisses me back instantly, like this is the answer she was looking for.

  Fucking hell. Instantly all my hunger wakes up again, all my desire comes to life. She wakes me up and lights my skin on fire, a burning intense energy that threatens to overwhelm me completely. If I let it, I know it’ll overwhelm her, too.

  And so, we dance. I let the energy flow through me. Song after song, we grind and move. Sometimes, I kiss her. Sometimes, she kisses me. I feel like we’re doing something dirty, public, intimate. It feels so fucking good, I don’t want it to end.

  But eventually, she tugs me away from the crowd. She says something, but I can’t hear anything. My ears are practically ringing from that music.

  “I said, it’s really late.”

  I frown and check my watch. It’s nearly five in the morning.

  “Shit,” I say.

  “I need to go home.”

  I nod. “Okay. I’ll drive you.”

  She shakes her head. “My car’s still at the bar. Drop me off there.”

  I grunt and lead her back out into the night. Well, I guess it’s nearly the morning now.

  We don’t speak as we get into my truck. I’m tired now, and I can feel the hours of dancing in my legs. All that time blinked past, and now neither of us feel like we need to talk.

  I drive back to Hammy’s and park next to a little beige sedan, the only other vehicle in the lot.

  “That was fun,” she says finally, facing me.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “I guess I should get going.”

  I nod, although she’s not moving. “Okay then.”

  She bites her lip, studying my face. I smirk and lean back in my seat a little bit. I know what she’s waiting for, but I’m not giving it to her.

  She lets out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not going to try to come home with me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  She shakes her head. “No,” she says, although she means, yes, but I’m afraid.

  “So why ask?”

  “Guys always do. I mean, when you kiss them.” She hesitates, bites her lip. “I don’t normally do that.”

  “Kiss guys?”

  “Strangers, in a club. You know.”

  I shrug. “First time for everything.”

  “What about you?”

  I smirk and lean toward her suddenly. There’s a flash of fear in her eyes, and I drink it in. “I used to make a habit of it.”

  She blinks and glares at me. “Of course.”

  “Not anymore, though.”

  “What do you do now then?”

  “I only touch what I really, really want.”

  I can hear her breath get a little quicker in her chest. “You’re a strange one, Dawson…” She hesitates. “I don’t know your last name.”

  “Sparks,” I say. “Dawson Sparks.” I tell her my real name for some reason. Maybe I’m getting soft.
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  She raises an eyebrow. “That’s a good name.”

  “I know.”

  “Is it real?”

  I laugh. “As real as anything else. What about you then?”

  “Booth.”

  “Celine Booth,” I murmur. “Little Celine.”

  “You keep calling me that.”

  I reach over to her, taking her by the hair. I pull her toward me and kiss her, feeling her tongue slide into my mouth. She lets out a little groan, almost a strangled moan.

  “I keep saying it since it’s true. You’re little, and I like it.”

  “Not that small,” she says, glaring at me.

  “Go ahead and tell yourself that.”

  She bites her lip and tilts her chin ever so slightly. “Are you always such a dick?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Probably am.”

  She sighs and I kiss her again. This time, I pull her across the truck seat. I feel my blood roaring in my ears as she straddles me, her body pressing against mine.

  She really is small, at least compared to me. I’m a big man, always have been. Celine is on the shorter side, although her breasts are firm, and large, and her ass nestles perfectly in my hands. I squeeze and she lets out a little groan.

  I suddenly turn her and lay her down on the seat. I slide the door open and kick it back, stepping half out, tugging her hips to pull her toward me.

  I kiss her stomach, her belly button. I unbutton her jeans and pull them down. She looks surprised as I kiss her inner thigh, fingers teasing her pussy.

  She sits up on her elbows and groans, biting her lip. “You shouldn’t,” she says. “I mean, we’re in public.”

  “Leaving you with something to remember me by,” I say softly. I tug down her panties, and she gasps as my tongue rolls along her clit.

  I lick and suck her wet, delicious little pussy. I haven’t tasted something so sweet in a very long time and I feel myself losing it completely. Her moans, the way she moves her hips, it drives me fucking wild.

  I want to get her off so badly it almost fucking hurts. I want this girl to feel what it’s like when I finally let myself go. I want her to get a small taste of what I can make her feel.

  Because I know she’ll be back for more.

  I lick her clit faster. She grabs onto my hair, pulling tight. I grunt a little, enjoying the pain. I respond by gripping her hips and sliding my tongue inside of her and back up.

  I use my tongue and teeth and lips to work her clit. She rolls her hips, getting into it. I reach up to tease her breast before pinning her down with one hand.

  With the other, I slide two fingers inside of her. She gasps as I slowly stroke her, holding her down and fucking her with my fingers. Her eyes are wide with pleasure and fear and desire all mixing together. I hold her down and start to fuck her pussy faster with my fingers.

  She’s groaning louder, moving her hips. I can tell she’s losing it. “I thought you were a nice girl,” I say.

  “Not always,” she groans.

  “You’re right. Look at you. Dripping wet, moaning out in public. You’re letting a strange man fuck your tight little pussy.”

  “Shit,” she gasps. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  I laugh gently. “Fuck, girl. I’m not complaining. This is the best-tasting pussy I’ve had in a very long time.”

  She glares at me, but I don’t give her a chance to complain. I drop down between her legs and slide my fingers in deeper. I taste her clit with my tongue, and I can tell that’s exactly what she needs.

  Her body stiffens as I lick her faster, sliding my fingers in and out. I fall into a rhythm, fucking her pussy, licking her clit. Her moans fill the truck, the parking lot, and anyone could easily spot us. We’re not hiding, not being subtle at all.

  The sun’s starting to rise. It’s peeking up, just a little bit. I fuck her pussy faster, pressing my fingers in deeper, spreading her tight little cunt wide. “You’re fucking tight,” I say to her. “When was the last time you took a big dick, huh, girl?”

  She bites her lip, shakes her head, and doesn’t answer.

  I laugh gently. I lean forward and kiss her. I bet she can taste her pussy on my lips as I keep fucking her with my fingers.

  I go faster. I roll them along the roof of her tight cunt, sliding in and out. She’s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wet spot on the seat of my truck. I love it, love how wet she is, how badly she’s dripping for me. I fuck her faster and drop between her legs to lick her.

  She grabs my hair as her back arches. “Fuck,” she gasps. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. Keep going. Please, Dawson.”

  I keep going, just as the lady requests. I fuck that pussy with my fingers, I lick that clit all over, I make her feel fucking good.

  And she comes for me, nice and hard. Her whole body tightens, relaxes, tenses again. She groans and pulls my hair nice and rough and tight. I keep my fingers pumping in and out, fucking her through it as I look up at her face. It’s twisted in ecstasy, a beautiful fucking mask of pure and intense pleasure.

  I love that look. I fucking love it so much. My cock’s so hard I can barely breathe.

  But we’re finished. The sun’s moving faster now, starting to light things up. The town’s starting to wake around us.

  “Fuck,” she says, pulling up her panties. “Do you think anyone saw?”

  I look around and shrug. “Probably.”

  “Dawson!”

  “I mean, no, of course not.”

  She blushes deep crimson. “I don’t do this,” she mutters.

  “I know you don’t. You’re a nice, Midwestern girl.”

  She glares at me, but I laugh and kiss her. She kisses me back, tongue and lips, body pressing tight.

  She finishes dressing. I walk her to her car.

  “Thanks,” she says, almost awkwardly.

  “For what? The drink or the orgasm?”

  She sighs. “Both, I guess.”

  I laugh and lean forward. We kiss again.

  “Maybe I’ll see you again,” I say.

  “Okay, sure. Maybe you will.”

  “Night, little Celine.”

  “Night.”

  She ducks into her car. I climb up into my truck, fingers trailing along the wet mark she left.

  I smile and watch as she drives off. I know she’ll go home and dream about this. Hell, it’ll seem like a sweet nightmare. The strange man, getting her off in the parking lot.

  But it’s no dream, and I’m hooked. I know I’m not letting her go so easily.

  I’m getting another taste, one way or another.

  3

  Celine

  I wake up around noon and I feel like Dawson Sparks was a dream.

  I get out of bed, brush my teeth, and shower. The slight ache between my legs where Dawson’s big fingers fucked me nice and hard is the only proof that any of it happened.

  I can’t believe things went so far, but as soon as he kissed me, touched my body, danced with me…

  I knew I was willing to go way further than I ever have before.

  I’m being stupid, though. A man like Dawson isn’t the kind of man I should be involved with. I’m nowhere experienced enough to keep up with him, even if I’m good at pretending like I am.

  Truth is, I’ve never been with a guy before. I mean, I’ve kissed guys and we’ve fooled around, but I’ve never actually had sex.

  I’m a freaking virgin.

  It’s my secret shame. I come across all cool and tough, but it’s just a front I put on. Really, I’m just a sheltered girl that grew up with a sick mom. I spent all my time taking care of her. I barely graduated high school, and I was a bartender from the age of eighteen out of necessity. I had to get a job to help pay the bills that kept piling up.

  Taking care of my mom and working long hours didn’t leave me with much time to fool around with boys. I always figured I’d meet one, date him for a while, and eventually have sex with him, but the days slipped past and it just never happened.

 
Now I’m twenty-two and still a virgin. And I’ve never experienced a man like Dawson.

  I make some coffee and have something to eat. I need to get back to Hammy’s in a few hours again for another late shift, starting at five. In the meantime, I get online, and I try to find out anything I can about my mysterious date.

  Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot. Dawson isn’t on social media, so far as I can tell. I can’t find an email address, a phone number, an address, nothing. It’s like Dawson Sparks doesn’t exist.

  Maybe he gave me a fake name. That wouldn’t be too surprising. Or maybe he’s using a new name now that he’s living here in Pine Grove. I thought about doing the same, starting over completely, but I couldn’t leave all that behind, not completely.

  Still, I wish I could find something about him. Dawson’s a mystery to me, a gorgeous man with a dark sense of humor and a tongue that drives me wild. I’ve never gotten off from a guy going down on me like that before, but it was effortless with Dawson. Coming for him was like breathing. It was natural, unforced. It was necessary.

  Just thinking about him makes my stomach tingle with excitement.

  I sigh and close my laptop lid. I sip my coffee and cross my legs, looking out the window of my crappy apartment. I can see the strip mall across the street with two empty storefronts and a grocery store that looks like it’s on its last legs.

  But all I can think about is him. And I know that I shouldn’t, but when I get into work tonight, I’m going to find out as much about Dawson Sparks as I possibly can.

  * * *

  “Who?”

  Mae looks at me with a little frown.

  “His name’s Dawson Sparks,” I say. “He came to town like… six months ago.”

  Her frown deepens. “Green eyes?”

  I nod, perking up. “That’s him.”

  She sighs. “Don’t know much about him,” she says. “Sorry.”

  I can’t help but show my disappointment. “Really? You never talked to him or anything?”

  “Keeps to himself,” she says.

  I sense the hesitation in her voice and hope blossoms a little bit. “But you know of him then?”

  She sighs and glances over her shoulder. “Look, he came to town one night, no explanation, no job. Bought a nice house in the middle of town with cash.”